


Down the Skag Hole

by ShepardCommander



Category: Borderlands
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShepardCommander/pseuds/ShepardCommander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys and Fiona are gone. Sasha and Vaughn are not. Now the kid sister and the best friend must work together if they ever want to see their sister/friend and best friend/boyfriend(?) ever again and become that which they never thought they would or could-Vault Hunters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode 1: The Vault Hunter Awakens, Chapter 1: Present Day

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic will be structured like the Tales from the Borderlands episodes—each episode will be divided into chapters, the chapters alternating between present day and flashback sequences.
> 
> Updates will hopefully be somewhat on a regular basis; I'm striving to do at least one a week, but, seeing as how long it took me to finally churn out this first chapter, it may be more like one every two weeks. Hooray perfectionism and writer's cramp.
> 
> This also plays into the end of Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel, taking into account The Watcher's warning.

The sky was dark. Which, if it was nighttime, wouldn't have been a problem. It was, however, high noon, so the dark sky was a problem. A very big problem. Made bigger by the fact that the sky was darkened not by clouds or some other meteorological event, but by a thousand angry and armed Eridians.

"Sanctuary is under attack. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. Sanctuary is under attack."

Lilith's voice came over the loudspeakers, barely heard above the shrill cry of Sanctuary's alarms and the screams of its citizens. The very air itself was vibrating as the Eridians drew closer, their rapidly beating wings emitting an obnoxious hum that shook Sasha to her very core.

She was running, her legs wobbling like limp noodles, flashing signs passing her by, flyers scattering in the unnatural breeze sweeping through the floating city. Her lungs couldn't seem to pull in enough oxygen as her breath came in erratic spurts, mouth cotton-dry, heart pounding out a frantic rhythm inside her chest and head.

Fear.

Sasha hadn't been afraid like this in a long time. Not even The Traveler had been able to elicit this sort of response from her. Yes, she'd been afraid, but she'd known that everything would turn out ok somehow, because everything had been right with the world, because Fiona had had her back, because Rhys had been at her side, because Vaughn had been watching over them all. Together, the four of them had been invincible.

But Rhys and Fiona were gone and a threat even more ancient than the Vaults was coming.

She stumbled, her foot caught on a chunk of loose concrete. "Aaaah!"

The hard ground flashed before her eyes. Instinctively, she threw her hands out in front of her to break her fall. They did just that, breaking not only the fall, but themselves. In actuality, it was more like a severe sprain, a stress fracture, but her arms—specifically the left one—couldn't take it. Pain lanced through her, ripping another agonized scream from her throat. "AAAAAHHHHH!"

A part of her had the sense to curl into a ball to avoid being trampled by fleeing citizens, and into a ball she curled, teeth gritting, eyes clamped shut as the world descended into chaos around her.

"Not again! Not again!"

"This is all the Vault Hunters' fault!"

"Hyperion was bad, but this! _This?!_ What the _fuck_ even is _this?!"_

"Where are the Vault Hunters?"

"Why didn't I move when I had the chance? I should've listened to my mom."

"If it wasn't for the Vault Hunters, this wouldn't be happening!"

"...Vault Hunters..."

"Vault Hunters?"

"Vault Hunters!"

_"Vault Hunters!"_

Vault Hunters.

Sasha's hands balled into fists despite the pain.

Vault Hunters.

They were right. This was the Vault Hunters' fault— _her_ fault. Because the Vault Hunters wanted guns and glory, because the Vault Hunters wanted the secrets of the Vault, because the Vault Hunters wanted to save the slag-licked galaxy. Because she wanted Rhys and Fiona back.

_"Sasha, get up."_

_"Don't give up, Sasha."_

The young Pandoran's eyes flitted open.

_Rhys._

_Fiona._

She missed them. So, so much.

And she'd be damned if she let something as stupid as an ancient threat get in the way of saving them, because, goddammit, she was Sasha the Con Artist, Sasha the Heartbreaker, Sasha the Vault Hunter.

Biting down on her lip, she forced her throbbing limbs to cooperate, her right hand finding the pocket watch that Felix had given her. It was in its usual place, where she'd clipped it to her shirt collar after it had been modded by Dr. Zed. Her fingers brushed against Rhys' tie that hung around her neck, still heavy with his scent.

She jammed down the top button on the watch and her body began to sing with forced regeneration, nerves on fire. The pain was incredible but familiar; she'd done this so many times before it didn't even faze her. Well, mostly.

A cold sweat broke out along her spine and forehead, mixing with the warm sweat that had been brought about as a result of her earlier physical exertions. Her teeth dug into her lip, blood pooling as bone broke skin. The puncture wounds healed just as quickly as they had formed, only to be broken open again as she bit harder. It was a weird sort of ecstasy, and it distracted her from the squishing and popping of her arms.

She was on her feet before the last bone in her left armed had mended, propelling herself forward with renewed determination. Sanctuary's streets had once been confusing to her, but now she knew them like the back of her own hand. Long strides carried her past Dr. Zed's 24/7 Clinic and Claptrap's haunt, Crimson Raider HQ looming like a beacon of hope before her.

"Sasha!"

The door swung open upon her approach and she tripped inside. Strong hands shot out to catch her.

"I thought—I'm so glad you're alright." Vaughn breathed a breathy sigh of relief as he helped her to her feet again. He took a step back, giving her a critical eye as she bent over and put her hands on her knees, the urge to vomit a sudden and very real thing. "I—what happened to you?"

Sasha was vaguely aware of a liquid soaking through her arm bands. It was probably water from a puddle or blood from where she'd scraped the pavement, but she didn't care, it didn't matter. Her clothes could be mended, her body healed. What did matter was that the Eridians were at their front door, intent on taking the only thing that could save Rhys and Fiona.

"...Sasha?"

Sasha glanced at the muscled nerd, expression grim. "They know we have the Vault Key."


	2. Episode 1: The Vault Hunter Awakens, Chapter 2: Got Anger?

Shoot something.

That was the first thought that raced through Sasha's tired mind as she limped-ran towards the Vault. The mystical energy that had swirled between its arches was gone, opening up now onto the barren, rocky landscape of Pandora rather than an alternate Eridian dimension.

"No, no, no, no,  _no_. This  _can't_  be happening."

But no matter how times she said it, no matter how fervently she denied it, it was very much  _yes_  and very much  _happening_. Still, her feet carried her forward, refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing and what that in turn logically implied.

Fiona and Rhys were gone.

She was fully aware of how ridiculous she looked, the guns she had stuffed into the orifices of her clothes—including her socks and bra—had either fallen out or were on the verge of falling out, but she didn't care. Hell, she wouldn't have cared if any one of them—Vaughn, Athena, Janey, Gortys, Loader Bot, Yvette, Claptrap—had started picking up those guns, rare as they were, and stuffed them in their own clothing's orifices.

Under normal circumstances, she would have cared about how ridiculous she looked and about others pilfering her stuff, but this was not a normal circumstance. Not that anything was ever a normal circumstance, but this was really not a normal circumstance, and she was trying not to panic, she really was, but it was hard.

Not even half an hour ago she had been running through The Traveler's insides, detonator clutched firmly in hand, bruised and bloodied. Adrenaline had pumped through her veins like it never had before, making her faster, the knowledge of what would happen if she failed propelling her forward. Now that same adrenaline was coursing through her again but without a target for her to focus her energies on.

Fiona and Rhys were gone.

It wasn't fair. Things rarely were—Sasha knew that better than anyone—but for once she'd thought that maybe she'd caught a break, that maybe everything would work out and be ok. But she was not catching a break and things were not working out and nothing was ok because Fiona and Rhys were...Fiona and Rhys...they were…

Fiona and Rhys were gone.

"No—they—they can't be—they're not—I don't—"

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it: they're $^ #%( gone." Claptrap kicked up dust as he zoomed around the arches and in-between them, further illustrating that the mystical energy was gone as he was not teleported to some mysterious beyond. " #(* it. That chick was moderately hot!"

Sasha fixed the yellow bot with a glare icy enough to freeze over hell itself.

"Hey! I just call 'em like I see 'em!" Claptrap protested, waving his thin, mechanical arms. "%# everyone's a #%^$! critic"

"Please don't be mad," Gortys said, following Claptrap's tire tracks. "He's right."

"*&$# ^ thank you! Why is everyone always so ^*%$ surprised when I'm )&$ right?!"

"Rhys and Fiona  _are_  gone, because this Vault is  _definitely_  closed, and they were  _definitely_  in it when it closed. Unless they got out. But I don't think they did, because they're not here." The Atlas robot paused, tilted her head, blinked. "Although, Fiona is moderately hot…?" She blinked again and looked over at Loader Bot, as if seeking confirmation one way or the other.

"Fiona's body temperature: unknown," Loader Bot responded.

"(#^$! That's not what I &*$% ) meant! Wah!" Claptrap wailed as Sasha pushed past him. "Watch it! People are $*&#% standing here!"

Sasha ignored the Hyperion robot, silently chiding herself. The answer—how to bring Fiona and Rhys back—had been rolling around right in front of her. Fiona and Rhys weren't  _gone_ -gone. They were just gone. The type of gone that wasn't permanent because—

—Gortys.

Why hadn't she thought of the Atlas robot immediately? Maybe it was the pain, the fatigue. Maybe it was because Fiona was the thinker and Sasha the reactionary, and her first reaction had been not to think but to freak out because her sister and boyfri—er, friend—had walked into an alien Vault and the alien Vault had closed with her sister and  _friend_ still inside.

"Can you bring them back?" Sasha asked, carefully kneeling before the small bot. Her injured arm jostled uncomfortably against her side and she had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out in pain. "Please tell me you can bring them back."

"Bring...them...back…?" Gortys said uncertainly, rolling back and forth in an agitated manner. "How?"

"I—I don't know—turn—turn the Vault back on?"

"I..." Gortys rubbed her metal hands together anxiously. "I don't know..."

The loud crunch of heavy metal meeting gravel interrupted Gortys and she swiveled her body to the right, Sasha's gaze following.

"The Righteous Father will be saved," Loader Bot said as he approached the two.

Loader Bot's presence seemed to bolster Gortys's confidence. Narrowing her eyes into determined slits, she glanced at Sasha and nodded her entire body. "I'll do my best."

"You can do it," Sasha encouraged as the small bot rolled away. To herself, she added, "You have to."

A whirring noise told her that Loader Bot had focused his attention on her; doubtless his red eye was scanning her, taking note of her body chemistry, the erratic beat of her heart. Did he know how she felt? He'd gone through great lengths to save Gortys—could he understand what she was going through now?

Dwarfed by the Vault's giant arches, Gortys came to a stop dead center and threw her hands up. "Open!"

What Sasha had been expecting to happen—an earth shattering rumble, an ear splitting crack of thunder, a blinding flash of light—she didn't know. All she knew was that she hadn't expected what she got—nothing.

Gortys had been created to summon the Vault and fight the Traveler. Gortys was the key. Gortys could bring back Fiona and Rhys and everything would be right with the world again. At least, as right as things got on a place like Pandora.

Gortys could do this.

She had to.

"Um...please?" Gortys tilted her body to the left. "Pretty please?"

The Vault stood still, imposing and silent.

Gortys spun to face Sasha, her eyes now upturned and sorrowful. "I'm sorry."

Reality hit Sasha like a Runner hitting a skag.

The Vault had closed with Fiona and Rhys still inside and Gortys couldn't open it.

"...Sasha?"

She stopped in front of the Vault, drawing the gun that she had shoved into her bra. A part of her realized that it was The Desolator, the Vladof pistol that Rhys had given her as she had laid dying, though the part of her that was in control, the angry part, didn't care.

The Vault had tried to take her life and then, when it had failed to do that, it had taken her loved ones.

Without bothering to take aim, she raised The Desolator. Fiona had always been the better shot of the two, but the Vault was huge and Sasha was angry.

It wasn't fair. Things rarely were—Sasha knew that better than anyone—but for once she'd thought that maybe she'd caught a break, that maybe everything would work out and be ok. But she was not catching a break and things were not working out and nothing was ok because Fiona and Rhys were...Fiona and Rhys...they were…

_Gone._

She pulled the trigger.

/ /

Vaughn watched, helpless, as Sasha unloaded The Desolator into the arches of the Vault. The Eridian structure remained unscathed, oblivious to the con artist's fury.

He couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling.

Rhys was his best friend, his bro. Fiona was pretty awesome—she'd believed in him at the bandit bike rally thing and he liked her enough.

The former accountant swallowed hard, brows furrowing in sympathy.

But for Sasha...Fiona was her sister. They'd only had each other to rely on for years, scrimped and starved and survived together. Rhys had defended him from bullies as a kid—sort of. They'd both usually wound up with their heads in either a toilet or a trashcan, but it wasn't the same. They hadn't suffered like the sisters had, had never had to worry about whether they'd wake up dead or alive. Sort of.

It had been awful on Helios; it was evident now more than ever. But Vaughn had grown up relatively safe and happy. He'd never had to worry about fighting off potential murderers until well into his adult life. For Sasha and Fiona, that  _was_  their life.

And as far as what Rhys was to Sasha...well, Vaughn wasn't quite sure  _what_  Rhys was to Sasha. During the time he'd been paralyzed, all he'd been able to do was watch and listen, so watch and listen he had. He had noticed the way they had looked at each other when they had thought no one was watching, observed how Sasha's cheeks had darkened in a blush whenever Rhys spoke to her, the way Rhys had sweated through the armpits of his shirt whenever Sasha was nearby. That wasn't what  _just_  friends did around each other, sweating and blushing.

"Are you done? Because I am."

"Get out my—gah!"

Vaughn glanced up in time to see Athena's shield slam into Sasha. Alarm shot through him like a bullet as the shield sent Sasha flying—what was Athena doing?!—his body in motion before his mind had even registered what had just happened.

"Sasha!"

Thin arms snaked around his upper body and held tight, trying to restrain him. "Vaughn, stop!"

"Let go, Yvette!" Vaughn struggled. "Sasha is…!"

"Let them be."

"What? Are you crazy? Athena is going to—I have to—to—"

"To what? Get sliced in half?"

"No!" Vaughn sputtered uselessly. "Let  _go_!"

The arms relented their surprising grip and he stumbled forward, nearing catching his foot on a pebble. "Gah!"

Yvette was suddenly beside him, supporting. Righting his posture with the lunch leech's help, Vaughn cast her a venomous glance. "What're you—"

Yvette held a single nail-chipped finger up to her lips and nodded towards Athena and Sasha. " _Watch._ "

/ /

"Athena!"

"Stay back, Janey."

Sasha coughed, something warm and sticky and cooper tasting flying out of her mouth.

Vaguely, she was aware of some commotion, but her ears were buzzing and her vision was blurry.

"Stop fighting!" something that sounded like Gortys cried.

"Holy $%^&!" something that sounded like Claptrap screeched.

"Get up," something that sounded like Athena commanded.

Sasha tested her limbs. She couldn't feel her left arm anymore, her right arm felt like it had shattered. What had hit her? "What...the….hell..."

"You want to fight someone? Fight  _me_ ," Athena growled.

"What?" Sasha coughed, wincing.

"Come on, get up."

Sasha sucked in a breath.

"Get.  _Up._ "

Sasha gritted her teeth, the pain lessening as something akin to rage spread through her body, blocking out every broken bone and torn muscle. Stumbling forward, her fingers brushed against something metallic and cool.

"Take it."

Sasha reached for it, whatever  _it_  was.

"Use it."

The con artist somehow managed to get to her feet, vaguely aware that the round thing she was barely clinging to was Athena's shield. Her knees were weeping where rock and debris had struck and stuck into them, her arms were burning and it felt like the Aspis was going to wrench her elbow from its socket, but she stood.

"Pick it up."

She strained, her back crying out in protest.

"Come on. Pick it up. Pick. It. Up."

There was a pop as she pulled, a fresh wave of agony surging through her.

"Fiona could do it."

That did it. Summoning strength from somewhere deep within, Sasha not only picked up, but  _threw_  Athena's shield at the Gladiator's impassive face. "Raaahh!"

Her throw, despite the vehemence with which she had thrown it, was sloppy, of course, and Athena caught the shield with ease. Before Sasha knew what was happening, the Gladiator's sword was at her throat, the shield behind her head, a blunt edge biting into the skin at the nape of her neck.

"You're angry, I get that. But get it together, kid," the Gladiator snapped. "You're not helping anyone by throwing a tantrum, least of all your sister."

"You...what...do you...know?" Sasha bit back.

"I know  _enough_."

Something slid across the Gladiator's face, something for Sasha and Sasha alone. Sympathy. No, more than that.  _Empathy._

_"Because...god...because Atlas...tricked me into killing my own sister, ok? What would you do if that happened to you?"_

Sasha blinked.

That was right. Athena had had a sister. A sister that she'd  _killed_. Of course she knew how Sasha felt.

"I...Athena..."

"It's ok to be angry. In fact,  _get_  angry.  _Get angry_. And then get angry some more," Athena pressed on, teeth gritted, eyes flashing with fury. "Take it, bottle it up. Channel it. Use it to help your sister. To help Rhys."

Sasha swallowed.

"Athena..."

Athena breathed through her nose and closed her eyes as Janey approached.

"I...I don't know what I would've done... _who_  I would've become...if not for Janey...if not for...my  _friends_." The former assassin opened her eyes, pain and suffering reflected in their depths. "If not for your sister…"

"Athena, love..."

Janey's arms found their way around Athena's torso and the Gladiator shuddered, melting into the contact, relaxing the blade that was a millimeter from cutting Sasha's throat.

"I know what it's like, probably better than anyone else on this planet, so  _listen to me_. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of that anger. Tame it. Master it. Make it work  _for_  you, rather than making you work for  _it_. Got it?"

Sasha nodded as much as she could with a sword ready to slice her flesh. "Athena...this is...really...starting to hurt."

In a blink, Athena had withdrawn and Sasha had fallen to the hard, unforgiving ground, coughing and gasping as her eyes watered.

The anger faded away, leaving her with a cold, quiet determination. She would save them, Fiona and Rhys. She would because if she didn't, who else would?

She would save Fiona, her sister.

She would save Rhys, her...her…

She shook her head, her heart fluttering and twisting inside her chest.

Whatever Rhys was to her...what they shared...she could figure it out later, after she had pulled his ass out of the fire. Again.

Craning her neck upwards, her hardened eyes met the Gladiator's. "Alright...what...what do I do?"

Athena gave her a tight smile. "Become a Vault Hunter."

/ /

"Become a Vault Hunter."

The words shook Vaughn to his core.

Sasha shakily got to her feet. She was battered and broken, yet she stood proudly, unflinchingly. Her right hand was clenched into a fist, the wounded left held tight against her body, jaw set, back straight. This was the woman who had been willing to sacrifice her life to make sure they all lived; of course she was going to become a Vault Hunter.

The question now was this: was he going to let her do this—become a Vault Hunter—alone?

She wasn't technically alone; there were plenty of other Vault Hunters. And it wasn't like he could just up and abandon the Children of Helios. He had said it himself—they were basically shitty at everything. But Rhys and Fiona were his friends and so was Sasha.

"You ok?"

Yvette's hold on him had loosened.

Vaughn looked up at Yvette. There was concern in her eyes.

"I'm..."

"Don't lie to me, Vaughn. If you dare say, 'I'm fine', I swear to Handsome Jack—may he rest in torment—that you will owe me so many lunches, even taking over a sandwich factory won't make us even."

Vaughn grimaced. "That's a lot of sandwiches."

"Yes, it is. So think carefully about your answer."

Vaughn hesitated, uncertain.

When he didn't answer, Yvette sighed. "Sandwiches aside— _are_  you ok? Seriously, Vaughn." She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. "You certainly don't look good. In a mental sense, that is. Physically you're...I don't even know  _what_  you are, but it's good."

"Thanks. I guess."

"You're welcome," Yvette smiled tersely, cocking her head to the side and leaning back on her left leg in a stern pose, showing that she was not to be easily dissuaded from the topic of Vaughn's mental state. "So? How are you?"

The former accountant's shoulders slumped. "I...I don't know."


	3. Episode 1: The Vault Hunter Awakens, Chapter 3: Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this long-awaited update! I finally have a new job that affords me more free time and I plan on playing catchup to my ongoing fics. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> With the announcement that a second season of “Tales from the Borderlands” is on hold for the foreseeable future, I figured it was time to crank this out.

"They know we have the Vault Key."

Ice replaced the blood in Vaughn's veins. Not literal ice, of course, but as Sasha tumbled into his arms, her feverish, sweat-slicked skin brushing against his tan skin flushed cold with fear…it was as if she was a burning sun and he a far-flung frozen moon in orbit around the last planet in the system.

_They._

_They_  knew.

And not just any  _they_.

_They_  as in  _Eridians_.

The creators of the Vaults.

Eridians.

_Eridians._

E-r-i-d—

"Vaughn!"

The heat—precious heat!—left him as Sasha pulled away. He started after her unconsciously, craving the stability that contact with her brought. He couldn't remember when the floor had decided to become the ceiling or when the ceiling had morphed into the floor, or why they were changing back to how they were supposed to be now, but if there was one thing he could remember, that he knew in his bones, that had bled into his marrow, it was that he needed to be with Sasha.

_Sasha._

The Con Artist.

The Heartbreaker.

The Vault Hunter.

Fiona's sister.

Rhys's… _something_.

Vaughn's friend.

_His_  friend.

_Sasha._

What would the Eridians do when they found out what Sasha—

_Kill her,_ some twisted voice within him sang, blood chilling in his veins,  _They will kill her and you will watch, helpless. They will not let her activate the Vault. They will not let her become another Handsome Jack. They will kill her—kill you all!—before they let that happen again. Everyone will perish and it will be your fault. Yours and Sasha's, Sasha's and yours, Sasha's fault, your fault, Sasha's fault, your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault, your—_

"Vaughn!"

Strong hands with calloused fingertips wrapped around his forearms, nails dug into his flesh. With a whooshing pop that reverberated in his ears, the former accountant was mercilessly sucked back to the present, rescued from his freefalling plummet into panic's bottomless pit, the contents of his stomach roiling uneasily as the world around him abruptly stopped its lurching. Or maybe it was  _he_  that stopped the lurching. He couldn't tell.

"Vaughn…. Vaughn! Look at me!  _Vaughn!_ "

Vaughn forced himself to focus on the green eyes—Sasha's eyes—that bore into his silver-grey. In her, he could see a mirror image of himself—not his  _literal_  self, of course, but a reflection of his thoughts and feelings. She, like he, was well aware of what they were up against, what it would mean to fail. But unlike him, there was something raging inside her, something radiant and pure, something determined and stubborn, something strong—

_Hope._

Vaughn found himself gripping Sasha back, the pads of his fingers brushing against the exposed flesh of her upper arms. Cold fright met warm adrenaline, and he clung to her like she clung to him, like they were each other's lifelines on that fucked up planet that was Pandora, in that fucked up galaxy that was the stage on which they danced.

"Sasha—"

Lightbulbs shattered, the long chains from which they hung whipping into each other and anything else that happened to be within their reach, the door Sasha had stumbled through just moments earlier blowing back open with a vicious wind. Stacks of paper, leftover slices of pizza, a broken ceiling fan lying neglected on the floor—anything that wasn't tied down or heavier than a small child was thrown about as the gale-force blast had its way with the Crimson Raider HQ, winding its way through every crevice, nook, and cranny.

Vaughn ducked as a stained seat cushion was thrown at his head, the stool it had been sitting on following after it, Sasha's cry of, "Vaughn! The door!", barely heard over the combined thrumming beat of ever-closer wings and whistling howl of wind that painfully tickled his ears. The accountant-turned-Bandit King dove for the door just as the monitors above what was formerly Patricia Tannis's desk were dislodged and came crashing down, erupting in glass and a shower of sparks, taking what little illumination they provided with them. The sole source of light was now coming from the outside, but even that wasn't much as the Eridians swarmed and blocked out the rays of Pandora's sun, what little light slipped through certainly not enough to warrant leaving the door dancing in the maelstrom as it was or letting the tempest continue to redecorate the cluttered and crammed interior of the Crimson Raider HQ.

Sand, dirt, and dust stung Vaughn's eyes as he crept forward, and he blinked the irritants away, pulling the green scarf wrapped around his neck up to cover his nose, un-zipped vest flapping madly in the wind. With painful caution he moved forward, arms raised, protecting his face from the storm. He could no longer hear the screams from the civvies running around in the streets outside or Lilith's calm yet urgent voice as it barked orders through the PA, just the screeching of the squall.

After what seemed like years but had more likely been seconds, Vaughn reached the door and its deadly dance of open-close. He hesitated, narrowed his eyes, waiting, waiting, waiting— _NOW!_

He leapt forward and placed his hands on the back of the door as it swung close towards the latch. Sweat beaded along his brow as it attempted to flutter open again, the muscles in his arms and upper back straining as his steel-toed boots slid on the smooth floor, giving up precious ground as the wind pushed against the door, against him. The scarf slipped from his nose and he gasped, unable to breathe, yet he remained at his post, pushing with all his might, tears blurring his vision.

He—Sasha— _they_ —had come so far. To have it all end here, on their very quite literal doorstep…!

_No_.

Inch by careful inch he forced the door closed, a sudden burst of strength tingling through his aching limbs as Sasha's bloodied hands appeared next to his. He lifted his head, and even though he could barely see her, he read their unspoken promise in her body language, in the way her pinky brushed against his, their mantra, their bond— _together_.

The Eridians had come.

The Eridians  _were there_.

And there was not a single doubt in his mind that they would raze Sanctuary to the ground in search of their prize—the Vault Key.

He couldn't—no, he  _wouldn_ ' _t_ —let that happen.  _They_  wouldn't.

_Together_.

Together they were going to the Vault.

Together they were going to open the Vault.

Together they were going to find Rhys and Fiona.

Together they were going to  _save_  Rhys and Fiona.

Together they were going to  _fight_.

_Together_.

Vaughn nearly collapsed as the latch on the door finally clicked into place. His hands and where they seemed to have cemented themselves onto the door with blood and sweat were all that kept him standing, his head colliding with the tough steel at the sudden and welcome relief. He almost vomited as excitement pulsed through his veins, chasing away the vestiges of  _flight_  from his system and replacing them with  _fight_.

"We did it," he heard Sasha breathe from beside him. There was the rustle of fabric against metal and a small puff of air that tickled his right leg, her voice coming from below rather than next to him as she repeated, "We did it."

Vaughn closed his eyes and let out a mirthless laugh. "We closed a  _door_." His arms wobbled, degrading to noodle-like in consistence, falling to his sides heavily and nearly wrenching themselves out of socket. Once upon a time, he would have howled at the shooting pain that ripped through him. Once upon a time, he had been living a relatively cushy life compared to that of the bandits of Pandora—constant threat of disappointing Handsome Jack and being thrown out an airlock notwithstanding. But since leaving Hyperion—since blowing up Helios—he had endured trauma even the sadistic late-CEO would have thought twice about dishing out. Probably. Maybe. Not really. "We're going to have to fight much harder than that if we want a chance at beating the actual things that  _made_  that wind."

"But you'll fight?"

Vaughn opened his eyes.

Once upon a time, he would have said, "No." But it was no longer "once upon a time" and he…he was not that man. Not anymore.

"I'll fight," he croaked, voice cracking like a prepubescent teen. "Ah, I mean—" he coughed, clearing his throat "— _I'll fight_."

Sasha let out a tired laugh. "Hm—that's a relief. I'd hate to have to tell Yvette you chickened out." She nudged his leg with her shoulder. "She'd bury you alive in sandwich debt."

Vaughn winced. Yvette and her sandwiches...

He hoped she was safe.

"Seriously!" Sasha continued. "Your kids—if you ever have them—would be paying it out to hers—should she ever has them—for generations to come!" There was a pause. "How would that work if you and Yvette—"

"Please, don't," Vaughn cut in. "Please, don't tell her…or even mention this was a conversation we had."

"Why?" Sasha prodded at his sore calf with a finger, her tone of voice one of mischief. "Unless…Don't tell me…you've got a crush on her!"

"Wh—No! Nothing like that!" Vaughn yelped.

"Oh really now?"

"No! I mean—yes. Yes! I think. No? I don't know! We're like—like—the exact  _opposite_  of  _that_!" He gabbled. "I mean—it's not that I don't think Yvette isn't attractive, because she is—is attractive, I mean—but that's not—we aren't—" He sighed. "Our relationship isn't like  _that_."

"Whoa! Calm down, Vaughn! I know!" Sasha said in an attempt to soothe him, laughter bubbling up between every other word. "I was just teasing you!"

Vaughn flushed. "Oh, well…I knew that."

"Uh-huh."

"I did!" Vaughn protested, knowing that he sounded anything but convincing. "But…just to be on the safe side…don't tell Yvette that we  _ever_  talked about her—her and I—in  _that_  context. Please."

"Are you sure? I'm more than willing to act as a go-between for the two of you."

" _Sasha._ "

"Fine! Have it your way. My lips are sealed."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow and shifted his head to look down at Sasha, not entirely convinced. In the near-darkness it was hard to see one another, but Sasha laughed at his skeptic silence all the same.

"Really! I swear! Pinky pro—" The word she had been about to speak— _promise_ —abruptly died on her lips, the roguish spark lighting her countenance sputtering out like a flame doused with water.

The bandit king's fingers curled inward, digging into the fabric of her shirt. "Sash—"

"N-no. I'm…I'm fine.  _Really_. It's just…I can't…I can't do this without you, V," she said softly. She turned her head, but not before something wet slipped down her bruised, dirt-kissed cheek. Even in the low light it was impossible to miss, the telltale sign of the sorrow she tried so hard to bury. "Fi…I've never…not known…and it's the not knowing that's driving me insane, and Rhys…" She shuddered. "I just have this nagging feeling in the back of my head…What if…what if we're too late? What if…what if we're  _wrong_?"

Vaughn swallowed hard, wishing he could tell her, tell her that they were doing the right thing, that the Vault held the answers to their questions, cursing himself because he couldn't reassure her, because the one person that understood the Eridians, the Vault, had been lying to them—to him and Sasha, to the Vault Hunters, to  _Lilith_ —since the very beginning. "Sasha—Rhys—I would never—we're going to—Fiona—"

He broke off, pulling Sasha towards the back of the room before the door slammed open again, the stamping boots and loud voices he had heard outside now filling the relatively quiet HQ with noise as Axton, Gaige, and Salvador came bursting through. Vaughn held his breath as the Mechromancer's bot, Deathtrap, approached with urgent propulsion, expecting it to leave a killer-bot sized hole in the building as it bullied its way indoors. His breath escaped him in a relieved whoosh as it slowed down at the last second, aligning its bulky frame with the entrance made for smaller, non-boxy things like its owner and her comrades—his comrades, too, now he supposed.

Gaige's pigtails were a sloppy mess, her ginger hair half-pulled out of the hair-ties that kept it back, a few stray strands trapped beneath the goggles she had pulled down to protect her eyes from the wind and dirt. Salvador's mohawk looked like a Trash Feeder had made a nest in it, Axton the only one of the group that still appeared to be together, the gel in his hair gleaming. Or maybe that was sweat. Either way, he still looked damn good.

"Close the door! Close the door!" Axton yelled.

"Deathtrap's not in!" Gaige exclaimed.

"Well get 'im in then!" Axton shot back.

" _You_  get him in!" Gaige spat, gesturing at her struggling mechanic companion. "Blame fucking whoever designed this place! It's not very robot-friendly!"

"Watch your language, young lady!"

"Fuck you! You're not my real dad!"

"Fuck  _you_! Your stupid robot is going to get us killed!"

"Double fuck you! Deathtrap is  _not_  stupid! Your stupid turrets are stupid!"

"Triple fuck you! Do you know how many scrapes my turrets have gotten us out of?"

"Quadruple fuck you! Deathtrap isn't named 'Deathtrap' because he likes picking flowers!"

"F—"

"Be... _QUIET!_ " With a yanking tug, Salvador heaved the struggling mechanoid through the door, the windstorm raging outside grabbing the metal slab and forcefully wrenching it closed. The short man shot his fellow Vault Hunters a disapproving glare, folding his thick arms over his even thicker chest, the dull blue-green glow of Deathtrap's facial interface a beacon in the suffocating darkness. " _Idiota incompetente!_ "

"You are, but what am I?" Gaige asked, sticking out her tongue.

"Ah...sorry about that, Deathtrap." Axton scratched the back of his head, the giant killing machine craning what was supposed to be its head to take stock of the fleshy and fragile man. "No hard feelings. Threat of a violent and not-so-sudden thrown to your death off the edge of a floating city does that to a guy." He patted the robot's large metal claw fondly. "Be glad you're made of sterner stuff than humans, bud."

Deathtrap's face glowed brighter for a moment in acknowledgment of Axton's words, his head swiveling to the left a bit as his creator approached, throwing beams of light.

"Lucky you're such a stud," Gaige remarked, crossing her arms as she leaned against her bot, eyebrows rising above her still-goggled eyes. "Deathtrap has a real weakness for studs."

"Uh-huh, sure _. Deathtrap_." Then, as if remembering where they were and what was going on, Axton's expression morphed from one of disbelief to one of tortured concern as he turned towards the stairs that led to the upper portion of the Crimson Raider HQ, Deathtrap lighting the way.

Vaughn, who had been silently watching the trio bicker, felt his heart skip a beat at the familiar display of emotion. He had seen it play across Sasha's face more than he had cared to see it, more than he had cared for her to  _feel_ it.

"Maya—" The former Dahl sergeant broke off when he saw Vaughn hiding in the shadows, his brow furrowing as he jabbed an accusing finger at the Bandit King. "You!"

"Me?" Vaughn choked.

Axton crossed the distance between them in a few strides, not caring that he was stepping on Tannis' research notes and moldy pizza. "You said we had more time!"

"I know I did!" Vaughn said. "I don't know what—"

Axton grabbed Vaughn by the scarf wrapped around his neck and pulled him forward Sasha and all, the muscles in his arm bulging beneath his combat fatigues. "Maya is—she'll have to—do you know what's going to happen to her?" he ground out.

"I know! I know what's going to happen to her! I worked for  _Handsome Fucking Jack_ , remember?" Vaughn shot back hotly.

"Guys!" Sasha said, trying to worm her way between the two. "Calm down! This isn't the time or the place for—"

There was a flash of blinding light, a chorus of yelps and curses, and Vaughn stumbled backward, as if pushed. No, he realized as he blinked several times, clearing his vision, it wasn't as  _if_  he had been pushed. He  _had_  been pushed. Standing between him and Axton, holding both men at bay, stood the red-haired Siren and leader of the Vault Hunters—Lilith. A cascading shimmer of yellow-orange rolled across her pale, blue-tattooed body, casting them all in burnt umber light.

"Save the pissing contest for later, boys," she said, golden eyes flashing. "We've got a problem."


End file.
